


They Came Together

by claimingsanctuary (timeschange)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cliche, Dean falls into Castiels arms, Fluff, Gabriel Ships It, I pulled out every trick in the book on this one, Kissing in the Rain, Light Angst, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Sam Ships It, Some smut probably, There's unintentional hand holding, They get locked in a closet together, Trapped In A Closet, Universe alternate (it's a thing)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeschange/pseuds/claimingsanctuary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with a case. When a town near the bunker turns into the singing, dancing world of a cheesy musical, Sam goes to investigate. He doesn't find the mysterious musical "monster," but it ends up following him back to the bunker- and it decides making Dean Winchester as uncomfortable as possible is it's sole delight. It does this by launching Dean and Castiel into the cliche world of a Romantic Comedy.</p><p>In other words, this is the one where everything is a cliche, the universe seems to be pushing Dean and Cas together, Gabriel is a dick, and Dean is that self-aware Disney character that always questions why everyone is singing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: Yes, the title is based off the new Rom Com with Amy Poehler and Paul Rudd (essentially, they make fun of Rom Com cliches the whole movie. It's great).
> 
> Note 2: This is a prompt fic! (yay!) Here's the original prompt text: "Basically Dean and Cas keep getting in romcom cliche-type situations (i.e. tripping and falling into each others arms, getting stuck in a closet together) Maybe someone was messing with them and cast a spell? coughcoughgabrielcough"

Dean wasn’t getting anywhere with this. He flipped through the musty old book, eventually slamming it shut with a frustrated sigh.

About a year ago, Sam and Dean took out a vamp’s nest in a town not far from the bunker. They’d had to clue the sheriff in on what was killing her citizens, and after they’d ganked the vamps, they’d given her their number and told her to call them if she ever came across anything else weird.

They didn’t actually expect her to call.

But four days ago, she did. She seemed completely wigged out, talking about how the entire town was turning into a cheesy musical. People were randomly bursting into song and there were spontaneous flash mobs, the whole deal.

Dean had his money either on psychotropic drugs or Julie being batshit crazy, but Sam took her call seriously. Three days ago, the younger Winchester left to check out the town.

He went alone, leaving Dean and Cas at the bunker to research what could be causing the music.

They tried working together on the research, but eventually (after an entire day passed and they got  _absolutely nothing_  done) realized they should probably split up. When they tried working together, it went something like this:

“ _Hey, Cas?”_

_"Yes, Dean?”_

_Dean grinned. “I have a theory: it’s a demon. A dancing demon.”_

_Cas had only cocked his head to the side and frowned. “Why would a demon be dancing?”_

_"Ugh, seriously? Forget research, Sammy can figure this out on his own. Right now, I need to educate you on the wonders of Buffy.”_

So that’s why Dean was alone on a Friday night, _researching_ , which felt pointless in and of itself because what sort of lame-ass monster would turn the world into a cheesy musical? At least turn it into something exciting, you know? Like an action movie or something.

Dean felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he fished it out.

“Hey, Sammy…did you find your musical monster?” Dean asked lightly. He heard Sam’s annoyed huff over the line and could practically _feel_ the accompanying bitch face.

“I got there and it all stopped. Julie freaked—she _swore_ she wasn’t imagining it. I asked several townspeople, and they all said the same thing—craziness for days, then it all stopped.”

“Right when you got to town?”

“Yeah.”

“Careful, Sammy. This thing might’ve made you the second you showed your face.”

“Yeah, well, I’m on my way back now. When I stuck around for a few days and it didn’t start back up, I just told Julie to call if she had more trouble.”

“’Kay. Where are you now?”

“I’m like ten minutes away.”

“Oh,” Dean said, looking at the mess he made of the library. “Uh…okay?”

“Am I going to see something that’s going to scar me for life?” Came Sam’s amused voice.

“What? No, dude. You know I don’t bring chicks back to the bunker. I just need to do some speed cleaning, that’s all.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Why?” Dean laughed. “You knew when you left that I’d make a mess.”

“No, because—whatever. Nevermind. I’m gonna let you go now, okay?”

“Sure. See ya,” Dean hung up, setting his phone on the table.

A loud bang came from somewhere in the bunker. “Jesus, what the hell is Cas doing?” he wondered out loud, putting several books back on the shelves. “Okay,” he said. Dean stood with his hands on his hips, looking around the library. “Beer bottles.”

He managed to scoop almost a dozen beer bottles into his arms (he was _not_ an alcoholic, okay? This was three days’ worth, and Cas had some of them) and headed toward the door. He paused, looking down to rearrange the bottles in his arms, and then kept walking—only to violently collide with Castiel, who had just emerged from around the corner.

The beer bottles clattered to the floor, along with the stack of books Cas was holding.

“Shit,” Dean swore, bending to pick up the books. Cas, unfortunately, had the same idea, and their foreheads collided. “Ow. Sorry,” Dean laughed weakly, rubbing his forehead. He crouched to pick up the books, Cas reaching for the bottles.

“Watch where you’re going next time, Cas,” he teased, the smile falling from his lips when he looked up at the angel.

Now, Dean _hated_ clichés, so he hated himself for what he thought next, but it felt like time stopped when he looked up into those beautiful blue eyes. He’d admired Cas’ appearance before, _obviously,_ but geez, those eyes were bluer than the sky on a cloudless day and even deeper than the ocean (and okay, seriously, what the hell? There’s a reason he never pursued a life as a poet). Really, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Was that normal? He wasn’t _that_ smitten, was he?

Cas looked up at the same time Dean did, their faces close enough that Dean caught every emotion that flashed across his best friend’s face. And why did Cas look like he was in, like, super blu-ray hi-def? They weren’t _that_ close, but Dean could see _everything._

There was something like surprise, then a brief second of confusion, then…awe? Castiel’s lips parted with a quick intake of breath and his eyes widened slightly. Dean, mesmerized, watched the flutter of eyelashes against a tan cheekbone as Cas blinked several times rapidly.

Dean licked his lips, not even realizing he’d done it until Castiel’s eyes slowly—way _too_ slowly—something was definitely weird here—dropped to Dean’s lips, where they seemed to rest for an eternity.

Jesus, Cas was hot. With his stupid, perfect, angelic lips and eyes and cheekbones and messy dark hair that was currently blowing in the breeze (Wait. They were inside. Why was there a breeze? And this seemed like an awful lot of thoughts for a short amount time. Exactly how long had they been staring at each other?).

He opened his mouth to speak, losing his train of thought when Cas’ attention again zeroed in on his lips.

“Hi,” he finally managed to breathe.

Cas started guiltily, his eyes quickly darting away from Dean’s mouth back up to his eyes. When he registered what Dean had so eloquently said, his head tilted to the side and a small smile appeared on his lips. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean gave him a nervous smile back, and they fell into staring again. “Okay, what the _hell_?” Dean asked, more to himself than to Cas. “What’s happening here?”

Cas jumped a little at Dean’s initial outburst, looking away with a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “I…I believe we’re attempting to pick up the items we dropped?” He said with a nervous glance at Dean.

“Uh…right.” So Cas didn’t notice anything weird, then?

“Dean,” Cas asked as he scooped the empty bottles into his arms, “are you… _cleaning?”_

“Sam’s on his way back.”

“I see.”

They both stood up, Dean now holding the books and Cas holding the bottles. “Uh. I’ll put these away for you if you go recycle those for me.”

“That sounds fair.”

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Um…nevermind.”

Cas squinted at Dean, but thankfully didn’t push. Dean wanted to ask if Cas noticed anything weird about that whole encounter, but what was he supposed to say? Cas, do you happen to feel hotter than usual? Because you look it. Were we staring at each other for a _really_ long time just now? Because it kind of felt like years. Did that whole thing feel like a scene from a badly written romance novel? Because it did to me.

No thanks.

.

.

After that, Dean more or less forgot about the incident. Sam came back with Chinese, which was pretty much enough to make Dean forget anything unpleasant. (Not that being that close to Cas was unpleasant. Because it sure as hell wasn’t.)

By the next morning Julie still hadn’t called them, so Sam called her. The weird stuff hadn’t started back up yet, apparently.

“Weirdest case ever,” Sam huffed.

“ _Or,_ ” Dean began, “there was no case in the first place.”

“You’re right, Dean. I’m sure the _whole_ town just went crazy at once.”

Dean shrugged, getting up from the kitchen table. He jumped when he turned around, having to grab the table to stabilize himself. “ _Jesus, Cas_ ,” he fussed. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Since Sam got off the phone,” Cas said. He was leaning, arms crossed, against the counter.

“Warn a guy,” he mumbled, heading toward the fridge.

“Are you getting a beer?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, you want one?”

“No, but can you grab me an apple?”

“Nope. Don’t wanna encourage your bad eating habits,” Dean grumbled.

Just as he was passing Cas, he tripped. Well, he didn’t _trip,_ it was more like someone kicked his legs out from underneath him. He squeaked (a sound he would deny making to his dying day) as he felt himself fall backward, and he knew in that moment: this was how he died.

But he never hit the ground.

Apparently he was still going to die, just of embarrassment instead.

Because when he finally realized what was happening, he found his face closer to the angel’s than it had ever been before. Said angel stood with his arms wrapped around Dean, having caught the hunter mid-fall. He didn’t remember doing it, but he had wrapped one of his hands around the back of Castiel’s neck, his fingers tangled in the short hair there.

They looked like they were practicing a dip for an elaborate (and sexually charged) dance.

Swallowing audibly, Dean blinked up at Cas, who was currently the only thing keeping him from hitting the ground. Cas shifted Dean’s weight in his arms to hold him more securely, temporarily bringing their faces even closer together. Dean could _feel_ Cas’ warm breath on his lips, and all he would have to do to bring them together was angle his head slightly…

“Awwww,” Sam teased between bouts of laughter. “You guys are adorable.”

Dean pulled his face away from Cas’ as much as possible and glared at Sam, looking as threatening as he could while essentially being cradled in the arms of his angel.

“Uh, Cas?” he growled, looking back at Castiel. The tip of his nose brushed against Castiel’s cheek, the small contact make his heart beat faster. “You can let go of me now.”

“Oh,” Cas sucked in a deep breath. “Of course.”

Cas helped set Dean upright. As soon as the hunter was free from Castiel’s grip he took a large step away and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“You don’t catch dudes like that, Cas!” Dean snapped.

“Apologies, Dean. Next time I’ll let you fall on your ass,” Cas snapped back with equal venom.

“What the hell did you even trip on?” Sam asked, still laughing.

“Nothing. Shut up. The floor is slippery.”

Cas tilted his head to the side, opening his mouth to say something.

“Not a word out of you, blue eyes,” Dean said, pointing a finger at Cas.

“In the future, how would you prefer I caught you, then? If that was unsatisfactory.”

“Just don’t. A bruised tailbone is better than being a friggin’ damsel in distress.”

“ _Blue eyes?”_ Sam snorted, barely able to stop laughing long enough to breathe.

“Shut up, Sam! I’m going to watch TV— _nobody follow me.”_

"Does that mean you’re not going to grab me an apple?” Sam called after him, grinning.

.

.

Dean grumbled, sinking onto the couch and turning on the TV. The history channel was still on from when Sam was watching his stupid archaeology documentary earlier.

Dean laughed out loud when he realized he’d just turned on a documentary about angels, in the Bible as well as in pop culture. The main dude mentioned Michael, which stirred up more than a few unpleasant memories, but he quickly moved on to discuss the archangel Gabriel.

The documentary guy had a really weird thing for Gabriel, Dean realized quickly. He was practically _singing_ the angel’s praises, talking about his multiple appearances in the Bible with zeal. In art, in mythology, in songs…

“You wouldn’t like him so much if you’d met him buddy,” Dean snorted, changing the channel.

This new show looked like a procedural cop show. God, Dean hated procedural cop shows. The main characters (Dean assumed) were standing around a dead body, theorizing. The “FBI” showed up, and the hot detective chick (aka the only reason Dean was still watching) seemed upset about it. And when the FBI guy waltzed up, Dean felt his jaw drop. Dark messy hair, blue tie, black suit, fucking _tan trench coat._ All of it.

He changed the channel. It was some cat food commercial or something— a litter of kittens filled the screen. “Aww,” Dean found himself saying, quickly spinning to make sure neither Sam nor Cas had followed him in there. So Dean Winchester occasionally found fluffy animals cute? Whatever. It was no big deal.

One of the kittens was a fluffy little black thing with bright blue eyes that reminded him a lot of…Dean groaned, changing the channel. How the hell did a _kitten_ remind him of Cas? Jesus, he had it bad.

Next, was the food channel, and the chef on the screen looked _exactly_ like Castiel. Dean blinked, rubbing at his eyes, but when he looked again the chef was still there—round face, sweet smile, rough voice. _Everything._

He changed the channel again, pressing the buttons on the remote with more force than necessary.

Okay, a soap opera. It seemed safe enough. Upon initial inspection, none of the characters looked anything like Cas.

“You’re an angel,” one of the women was saying, “An honest to God angel. I could kiss you.”

.

.

“What’s a… _s’more?_ ” Cas asked Sam.

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Uh…what? It’s a dessert thing…with marshmallows and chocolate.”

“Ah. That makes more sense, in context. I saw it on a TV program.”

Sam nodded. “Gotcha. Hey, Dean didn’t drive you too crazy while I was gone, did he?”

Cas looked confused. “No, he was actually quite companionable.”

“Okay. I just ask because he seems, I don’t know, _weird_ today.”

“Son of a BITCH!” They heard from the living room, followed by a loud crash. A few seconds later brought Dean stomping through the kitchen to the garage, muttering under his breath about “every damn channel.” Sam and Cas both flinched when they heard the door slam.

“I see what you mean," Cas nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More shenanigans. 90% fluff, 10% plot.

Throughout the following week, weird things just kept happening. They were small things, at first, like the incident in the library or Dean tripping in the kitchen. Just small enough that no one aside from Dean seemed to suspect anything…

.

Dean curiously wandered through the bunker, following the sound of music. It was some slow, sappy, old-fashioned sounding song, and while Sam had an... _interesting_ taste in music, he knew this had to be Cas' work.  Finally reaching the source, he turned into the living room.

“Hey Cas, Sam thinks he found a new case in—“ Dean froze in the doorway, a huge shit-eating grin appearing on his face. He leaned against the door frame. “ _Whatchaa doin?”_ he asked in a singsong-y voice.

Cas spun to face Dean, quickly jumping off the couch and hiding the object in his hand behind his back. The angel, surprisingly, was wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt. Dean found himself admiring Cas' figure before he could tell himself to knock it off. That damn trench coat, attached as Dean was to it, did a splendid job covering how awesome the angel's figure was.

Sam’s laptop sat on the table, blaring music.

“I thought you and Sam went to get groceries,” Cas said quietly. The angel’s face was slowly turning a bright crimson, and he was watching Dean with a wary squint.

“Just Sam,” Dean said, smile still plastered across his face. “Don’t change the subject. Were you just singing?”

“No,” the angel denied a little too quickly. Dean’s grin got, if possible, even bigger.

"Uh-huh," Dean beamed, "Sure. And what's that behind your back? Because you know, it  _looked_ like you were singing into a hairbrush just now."

"I..." Cas sighed, dropping the brush, "Shut up."

Dean laughed. “To Judy Garland, too?" he asked, walking over to Sam's laptop and looking at the screen, " _Really_? You know who does that, Cas? Crazy depressed chicks in romantic comedies.”

“I…” Cas squinted at Dean, “I’m not sure why I was doing it. I just really like this song.”

“Uh huh…and what’s with the get-up? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s nice seeing you out of the suit and trench coat combo for once, but uh…” Dean looked closer at what Cas was wearing, “Is that mine?”

Dean's mind was a littany of:  _Shit shit shit shit. That's so hot. Shit._ He shuffled uncomfortably.

Cas looked down at himself, seeming to notice what he was wearing for the first time. “My own clothes shrunk.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” Cas squinted at Dean, “And I couldn’t fix it. These are the only things I found in the laundry room that fit me.”

“Sam’s clothes too big?” Dean chuckled, trying to ignore the fact that Cas was standing front of him in his boxers. In _Dean’s_ boxers, that is. And Dean’s favorite shirt. And he looked really, really good in them. Life was unfair. “Great singing voice by the way, Cas. You’re a regular Frank Sinatra.”

Cas’ blush deepened. “Thank you.”

“You know who that is?”

“I _do_ know Sinatra, Dean,” Cas said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re in _no_ position to be getting sassy with me, baby. You just gave me teasing material for the rest of all eternity.”

Cas squinted, tilting his head to the side. “What did you just call me?”

“Uh,” Dean blushed, trying to think himself out of it, “Nothing. It’s a nickname."

"Yes," Cas agreed, nodding at Dean, "It's your nickname for the  _Impala._ And while normally I'd protest to being compared to a car, I know what a compliment that is coming from you."

Now Dean was probably the one blushing. "Uh...you're welcome? And don't tell Sam I called you that.”

"I won't. If you don't tell him I borrowed his laptop."

Dean laughed again. "Are you kidding me? No way I'm not telling him this story." _  
_

“Then I’ll tell Sam about the time in Montana when I caught you—“

Dean clapped a hand over the angel’s mouth. “ _Shhhhhh!_ Sam has spies everywhere. Fine, I won’t mention it again, but now we’re even, kay? No more holding that over my head.”

“We’re even,” Cas nodded. “Until I catch you in another…compromising situation.”

Dean laughed and patted Cas on the arm, instantly regretting it when he made contact with bare skin and felt an electric current race from his hand to his heart. He frowned down at his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist. “Well anyways, like I was saying—case.”

.

Dean began to notice all of these weird situations followed a pattern. First of all, they only involved Dean and Cas. And Cas didn’t seem to notice anything strange. Also, nothing weird seemed to happen when Sam was hanging around.

All of these stupid rom-com clichés were driving Dean _crazy._ I mean, there’s no way this was all coincidence, right? Dean would readily admit to having some pretty lame, sappy _thoughts_ regarding Cas before this nonsense, but things like this—falling into Castiel’s arms, seeing Cas’ face on every freaking TV channel, being forced to sit and hold his crush’s hands (yeah, he said it) for _half a freaking hour—_ they didn’t just _happen._ Not even to a Winchester.

But that all led to another problem. He had a hard enough time keeping from jumping the angel’s bones _normally._ And these things were also making him confront some deeply-repressed, lovey-dovey emotions he usually worked hard to keep concealed.

Dean wasn’t sure what would happen with that if this nonsense kept up.

.

“Cas, can you go tell Dean about this?” Sam asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “It might take me a while to fix.”

“Of course, Sam.”

Castiel left the basement, where Sam was fiddling with the bunker’s water heater, and set about on his quest of finding Dean. The older Winchester wasn’t in the kitchen or living room, so Castiel figured he was probably in his room.

He was headed over there when he heard a shriek come from the bathroom. He turned toward the noise, eyebrows drawing together, when a very angry (very _wet,_ and very _naked_  except for a towel clutched loosely around his waist) Dean Winchester burst out of the bathroom.

Castiel couldn’t take his eyes off Dean’s body. Dean Winchester was, in Castiel’s opinion, the physical model of perfection. Before rescuing Dean from hell, he hadn't seen very many humans in the flesh. When he rescued Dean from hell, Castiel decided Dean was the most beautiful of his father's creations. It had been years since then, but being exposed to more humans hadn't changed his opinion.

Right now, with Dean standing before him like this, Cas couldn't breathe. Dean was all tanned skin, defined muscle, and _freckles…_ Castiel wanted to kiss each and every one of them. The best part, Dean was dripping wet from his unfinished shower.

Dean froze when he saw Cas in the hallway, using his free hand (the one that wasn’t clutching the towel) to try to cover himself up from the angel’s wandering gaze. Cas felt the blood rush to his cheeks (something that was happening with increasing frequency…he didn’t like it. It was essentially a beacon alerting Dean to how embarrassed he was), and he forced himself to meet the hunter’s eyes. “Cas,” Dean breathed, “tell me you didn’t just hear that.”

“For a moment, I had wondered if a little girl somehow found her way into the bunker,” Cas teased.

“Shut up,” Dean whined, shifting uncomfortably, “All of a sudden my shower just got, like, _super_ cold.”

Cas nodded. “I was just trying to find you. Sam says there’s a leak in the gas line, or…something,” he squinted, trying to remember Sam’s exact words. “It could take him a while to fix.”

“Great. I get to finish washing my hair in ice cold water,” Dean grumbled.

Castiel looked up, just noticing that Dean’s hair was still lathered in shampoo. He smiled, taking a few steps closer to the hunter. Aside from tensing up, Dean didn’t move. Taking it as permission, Cas reached up and touched Dean on the forehead.

“Really?” Dean asked, running a hand through his now-dry hair, “You can mojo my hair clean but you can’t fix a broken gas line?”

Castiel squinted at Dean. “I’m not a mechanic.”

“No, apparently. You’re a hairdresser.”

“If that’s what you need me to be, Dean,” Cas conceded, smiling up at the hunter.

Dean coughed. “Um, right. Imma…I’m gonna go get changed, then.”

.

It was several days until the next incident.

.

Dean looked up from his phone just as Cas turned on the burner of the stove. “Uh, what are you doing?” He asked, jumping up when Cas put his hands directly above the fire.

“My hands are… _very_ cold, Dean,” Cas tilted his head to the side, “It’s rather uncomfortable.”

“Are angels even supposed to _feel_ cold?”

“Not like this,” Cas said, glaring at his hands.

“Uh…huh,” Dean said, forcing down the worry that bubbled up into his chest. A minute later, “Well is the fire helping, at least?”

“Not at all,” Cas said with a frustrated sigh, turning the burner off. He rubbed his hands together. “I’ve tried everything to fix it.”

“Well…um…let me see,” Dean suggested, wondering what he was getting himself into. Cas, for his part, didn’t seem to notice the strangeness of the request, easily offering one hand up to Dean.

Dean took it with both of his, immediately dropping it. “Jesus Christ, dude! Did you stick your hand in an ice box or something?”

“It felt warmer when you were touching it,” Cas said shyly, looking up at Dean through dark lashes.

Dean rolled his eyes, taking the angel’s hands in both of his. “Better?” he asked, feeling his hands turn colder as Castiel’s warmed up.

“Yes, actually,” Cas said with a content smile, taking a step closer. Dean laughed, trying to hide how adorable he thought Cas was in that moment.

Which, _naturally,_ is when Sam walked into the room. He paused in the doorway, letting out a loud laugh. “What on earth are you guys doing?”

Dean immediately dropped Castiel’s hands. “What? Nothing. Shut up.”

“Sorry, were you having a _moment?_ ” Sam asked, crossing to the fridge. “Feel free to yell at me if I’m interrupting.”

"You're always interrupting," Dean mumbled under his breath.

He scowled at his brother’s oversized back. With a wicked grin, he grabbed Cas by the freezing cold hand and led him over toward Sam. The angel amicably went along with Dean, even when Dean pressed Cas’ hand to the back of Sam’s neck. The taller Winchester cursed and jumped about a foot into the air, spinning around to face Dean with an offended expression. “What the _hell_ was that?”

Dean laughed, putting his hands on his knees. “Oh man. Your face, dude. That was just Cas’ hand. Apparently he’s getting angel-sick or something.”

“I‘m not—“ Cas huffed. “My hands are just cold.”

“That’s not good?” Sam said, frowning. He took Cas’ hand.

Cas frowned down at their joined hands. “Hmm.”

“What?” Dean and Sam asked at the same time.

“It’s not as warm as when Dean holds them.”

Sam grinned and offered Castiel’s hand to Dean. Dean scowled at him, batting Cas’ hand away. “What?”

“Dean,” the angel pouted, giving Dean his best wounded-puppy look, “I’m uncomfortable. You’re the only thing that makes it feel better.”

Dean sighed, taking Castiel’s hands again. “Only since you asked so nicely.”

Sam laughed, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and leaving the kitchen. “I’ll just leave you to it,” he grinned, winking at Dean.

.

Two days later they went on a hunt nearby—a simple salt n’ burn. On their way back to the bunker, they decided to stop somewhere for lunch.

“You two are very cute together,” their waitress said to Dean and Cas when Sam went to the bathroom. She was a sweet, plump, elderly woman with a kind smile and sad eyes.

“Thank you,” Cas said immediately, not understanding her meaning.

Dean laughed. “Uh, Cas—“

The waitress talked over him, turning her sad eyes on Dean. “You remind me of my son. He died a few years ago…I’m sorry, I don’t mean to overshare,” she smiled, “But it’s a great pleasure to me, seeing you both so happy. And so in love.”

“Uh,” Dean managed, unsure of what to say. His instinct was to immediately deny that he and Cas were in love in any way, shape, or form, but when confronted with her sad eyes… “Yep,” he said, plastering on a fake smile and throwing his arm around Cas’ shoulders. “That’s us.”

Cas tilted his head to the side, giving Dean a bewildered look. “Is it?”

Dean stepped on the angel’s foot, turning to look at Cas with his best attempt at a “loving” smile. “It sure is. _So_ in love, right Cas?”

“Um…yes,” Cas smiled uncertainly, leaning in to Dean’s side with a confused smile.

“How long have you two been together?” the waitress asked, smiling brightly.

“Uh…”

“Four years,” Cas said without missing a beat, “I raised Dean from perdition.” He nodded seriously.

"How sweet,” the waitress beamed at the pair of them. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it.”

After the waitress left, Cas didn’t seem inclined to move out of Dean’s space and Dean certainly didn’t want to remove his arm from around the angel’s shoulders.

.

The restaurant waitress walked away from the booth with the two lovebirds sitting at it, a smirk plastered across her face. She crossed toward the kitchen, pausing just outside the doors to look back at her handiwork. She frowned to see that they’d moved—Dean’s arm was no longer around Cas, and they both looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Frowning to herself, she reached into her apron and pulled out a candy bar, unwrapping it.

Dad help them, those two were thick-headed. The waitress couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to work so hard to teach someone a lesson.

She snapped her fingers and, with a cloud of smoke, her appearance changed to that of a short, long-haired man with a mischievous smirk.

“What a couple of idiots,” the trickster said to himself, tossing the candy bar wrapper over his shoulder.

Behind him, the bathroom door swung open.

“ _Gabriel?!”_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best cliche of them all: Dean and Cas get locked in a closet together.

Turning toward the sound of Sam's voice, the trickster grinned sheepishly. How had he forgotten about the other Winchester? The 6’4 sasquatch stood there giving him the bitchiest bitch face he’d ever seen. “ _Heeey,_ Kiddo. What’s up?”

“What are you doing?” Sam accused.

“ _Wow,”_ Gabriel gasped, putting his hand to his chest in mock offense, “ _That’s_ the welcome home I get? No, ‘oh, Gabriel, it’s so good to see you!’ or ‘Gabriel, you’re alive!’ or 'Gabriel, I'd forgotten how devilishly handsome you are!' Come on, Sammy! Not even a thanks for sacrificing my life for you hooligans? At the very least, you should be tearing your hair and beating your breast at the sight of me or something.”

Sam rolled my eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I would have welcomed you a little more warmly if I hadn’t seen the predatory look in your eyes just now. So I’ll say it again: what are you up to?”

“So much hostility. And here I thought we parted on a good note,” Gabriel sighed in mock defeat. seeing Sam's amused-yet-unimpressed expression, “I was just thinking about how to break it to the lot of you that I’m still alive.”

“Liar.”

Gabriel nodded good-naturedly. “Sam, it warms my heart that you know me well enough to be able to tell when I'm lying.”

“Well, almost everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie, so I just assumed,” Sam said with a small smile. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Fine! I’m up to something! But I _swear_ it’s not hurting anyone and I _swear_ that everything I’m doing is going to make your life a million times easier in the long run.”

Sam squinted. “What are you doing that could possibly make my life easier?”

“Come on, kid. Don’t you get tired of the lingering glances? The endless flirting? The ‘will-they-or-won’t-they’ scenario? That _can't_ be easy to live with day in and day out.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh no. You’re not—“

“I sure am!” Gabriel beamed.

“Don’t. Don’t try it. You’re just going to piss off Dean and freak out Cas.”

“Puh-lease, buck-o. This isn’t my first rodeo. Don't worry, I’m being subtle about it.”

“Are you?” Sam asked skeptically.

“…Maybe?”

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. “Well, either way. Knock it off. I'm telling you: it's a bad idea.”

Gabriel offered his hand out to Sam. “Twenty bucks says I can get those two maniacs to kiss each other’s faces off by the end of the week.”

“I hope you don’t mean literally,” Sam said, finally laughing. He looked at Gabriel’s proffered hand with a skeptical eye. “No deal, by the way.”

“ _Come on,_ Sam. Have a little fun. Look at it this way: you don’t have to do _anything._ Just let me work my magic. All you have to do is keep it a secret. And if those two aren’t falling all over each other by the end of the week, I’ll give it up- scout's honor. No more meddling.”

“Just like that?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Just like that.”

“Okay…but if you lose, I want more than twenty bucks. I want you to promise me- if you lose- that you’ll _never_ prank me or Dean again. Ever. Or Cas.”

Gabriel pouted. “Fine. But _if I win_ …I can prank you whenever I want.”

“That’s stupid,” Sam scoffed.

“You’re insatiable," the archangel said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Okay, if I win, I get to be a part of your little Scooby gang.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“You know, I want to be a hunter! Hang out at the cool kids’ table! Join the three musketeers, even if that means I have to be D'Artagnan. I get bored on my own,” he whined.

"Um,” Sam smiled, shaking his head, “sure. If you win, you can, um…hang out with us.”

“Sweet.”

Sam finally took Gabriel’s hand, shaking it once before letting go. “I’m _so_ looking forward to watching you lose. I'm telling you, those two are way too stubborn to give up after just one week.”

“We’ll see,” Gabriel smirked with a wink.

“But we never discussed this. If Dean and Cas ever find out about your meddling, you and I never talked here today- I'm just as clueless as them. There’s no deal. Got it?”

Gabriel saluted the taller Winchester. “Yes, sir!”

"Hang on," Sam narrowed his eyes, "Was that musical thing  _you?_ "

" _Weellll,_ I knew your clubhouse was in the area but I wasn't sure _where,_ so I thought it'd be easier to flush you out," Gabriel explained with a self-satisfied smirk.

"You're exhausting," Sam laughed. “Now get lost. Before they see you.”

.

“Dean?” Cas asked cautiously.

Dean looked up to see Cas standing the doorway, watching Dean with a pout and a tilted head.

“You’re allowed to come in, dude,” Dean said, not unkindly. He turned to give Cas his full attention, surreptitiously stepping in front of the files he’d been going through.

“I’ve never been in here,” Cas marveled, stepping into one of the men of letter’s old storerooms. The room was massive, and  _filled_ with files- stacks of files, loose pages, thick binders. There was a second door at the opposite end of the room, which lead to  _more_ rooms with  _more_ files.

“Yeah, we don’t come in here often. It’s like, last resort research stuff—if we really have no clue what the hell we’re dealing with and we're getting desperate,” Dean coughed, hoping he hadn't revealed too much.

“I see. Then what are you doing in here?”

“Uh…” Dean froze. “Cleaning?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Cleaning?" he repeated.

Dean sighed. “No. I’m just looking something up. Don’t worry about it.”

"Dean,” Cas began, his eyes widening slightly. “Do you…I've been meaning to ask. Have… _strange_ things been happening to you lately?”

“What?” Dean demanded, getting defensive, “Why would you think that?”

“Well I was hoping…that it wasn’t just me,” Cas fiddled with the sleeve of his coat nervously.

“Oh my God,” Dean breathed. He could seriously hug the angel. “You too?! I’m so freakin’ relieved, man. I thought I was going crazy—you have _no_ idea, Cas.”

“I believe I have some idea,” the angel replied with a wry smile. He wandered over to where Dean stood, surveying the files that littered the table. “What do you think it is?”

“You don’t have any idea, then?” Dean asked, disappointed.

“None.”

Dean sighed. “Well I got bupkis, dude. I don’t even know that something _is_ doing this, just…some of the things that are happening just _don't_ _happen,_ you know? There’s no way it’s all _coincidence!"_

“I understand. And sometimes I feel a…presence. Like I’m being watched,” Cas frowned.

“Ugh. Way to creep a guy out, Cas,” Dean mumbled. “So you can’t like…sense what it is, or anything?”

Cas gave him a look. "If I could, there would be no reason for this conversation, Dean."

“Okay, okay. So what exactly’s been going on with you that’s so weird?”

“Erm. I don’t…” Cas shifted his weight, eyes dropping to Dean's lips and slowly travelling lower. “Just...small things…here and there.”

Dean felt himself blush as Cas looked away nervously. He crossed his arms over his chest, the only thing keeping him from reaching out and pulling the angel to him by that stupid trench coat. “Okay. Right. Well, uh, based off that, I think I can guess. Is it stuff, um…involving _me_?”

Cas looked up nervously and met Dean’s eyes, his own wide. He nodded slowly “And yours involve…”

"Yeah." His voice came out rougher than he'd intended. "I mean, uh, _you._ ” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, looking away. “I was wondering if…cupid?”

“No,” Cas shook his head. At least the angel didn’t seem too freaked out at the implications of Dean’s suggestion. “I would have felt it. Besides, cupids don’t have to resort to petty tricks.”

“Dammit.”

Sam passed by, pausing in the doorway when he saw Dean and Cas, nose crinkling in confusion. “What the hell are you guys doing in here?”

Dean’s first reaction was to snap “nothing” and take a step away from Cas. They were standing two feet away from each other in the middle of an empty room—they were _clearly_ either conspiring or…you know, doing something else.

But then, up until now Dean assumed he was the only one who noticed anything weird. Turns out Cas had too. Maybe Sam knew something and he just wasn’t saying anything? “Anything... _weird_  been happening in your world, Sammy?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, the smile falling from his face. “Uh...weird? Besides you two, no.”

Dean was about to turn back to Cas when Sam seemed to remember something.

“Oh, yeah, and the _mayo in my toothpaste,_ you jerk.”

“The what?” Dean asked, bemused.

“Don’t play stupid. That's like, the fifth prank you've tried to pull on me in as many days. You want a war, you got it.”

“I didn’t touch your toothpaste! I don’t even know where you keep it! Maybe Cas did it.”

“Right. Cas, did you put mayonnaise in my toothpaste?”

“Why—“

"See? Cas didn’t do it. And there’s no one else here. _Especially_ no one that takes delight in stupid pranks...” Sam trailed off suggestively.

“Ha! There _is_ , though! Something’s messing with me and Cas!”

That was enough to derail Sam. “What?”

“Remember the other day? When I tripped? I didn’t say anything then, but I _know_ I didn’t trip! Something grabbed my ankle and _made_ me fall!”

“So it’s…what? The ghost of a really mean comedian?” Sam asked skeptically.

“No! You know what I think it is? I think it’s the same think that was doing the musical thing! In Julie’s town!” Dean said, freaking out.

“Dean, you didn’t even believe there _was_ a musical thing.”

“Well now I do! I think when you showed up at that town, the thing latched on to you and you brought it back here! That’s when all this craziness started!”

“ _What craziness,_ Dean? What the hell is even going on?”

Cas decided to join the conversation then. “Something seems to be pushing me and Dean to copu—“

“Cas!” Dean hissed. “He doesn’t need to know the details!”

Castiel scowled at Dean. “Why not? I think that in order to best understand what is causing this, Sam should know all of the details—“

Dean scowled back. “I say he _shouldn’t._ Come with me,” Dean grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the other door. “We’ll be right back, Sammy. Cas and I just need to talk about this real quick.”

“Uh, Dean?” Sam called after them. “That’s not a—“

Dean ignored him, throwing the door open and pushing Cas inside ahead of him. He stepped inside before realizing that it didn't lead to a room at all, and that he’d accidentally  just violently shoved an angel of the Lord into a small walk-in supply closet (walk-in being generous—there was barely enough room for _one_ person to fit in there with the equipment the closet was housing, let alone two).

Huh. Dean could have _sworn_ it used to be a full-sized room.

He was about to try to drag Cas somewhere else when there was a shove at his back, pushing him into the closet right after the angel. Then the door swung violently shut behind him and hit him in the back, which sent him flying forward into the bewildered angel.

“—Room,” Sam finished.

This was not good. Dean was way too close to Cas. He had one hand on the angel's chest and their faces were _way_ too close in the darkness. He jerked back, trying to put some space between himself and the angel, but-

“ _Ow._ Shit,” Dean cursed into Castiel’s neck, wiggling his arm, “My bracelet’s caught on something behind you.”

When the door sent him flying, Dean had instinctually thrown out two hands to catch himself. He got a fistful of trench coat with one hand, but the other had managed to slip through the shelves behind Castiel’s back and get caught.

So Dean’s hand was more or less cuffed to the shelf and Castiel was caught between them. This resulted in the two men being pressed flush against each other, with Dean leaning awkwardly against Cas’ chest- he couldn't extend to his full height without tearing off his arm.

It was horrible, in a way-too-wonderful-to-be-true kind of way. They were pressed against each other, so close that Dean could feel the beat of Castiel's heart against his own and the warmth radiating from the angel's body. Cas smelled really,  _really_ good. Dean had always thought so, but now that his face was buried in the crook of the angel's neck, he could really appreciate it.

In a non-creepy way.

But there were more important things to worry about. Like the fact that  _none of this should be happening._ That this was  _very, very bad._

Dean tried everything to free his wrist—he wiggled it, he twisted it. He even tried tearing the bracelet off. He finally gave in and looked up at Cas, who was staring at a point on the ceiling above them as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. "Yeah. I'm stuck."

“I think this is the work of the monster we were just discussing,” Castiel said, trying to stay as physically still as possible. Dean felt the vibration of Cas' words in his chest when the angel spoke.

“You _think_?” Dean hissed. He tried pivoting toward the door as best as he could and kicked at it several times, only stopping when the movement began to jar his wrist. “Ow,” he whined, scooting closer to the shelf (and to Cas) to alleviate the pulling on his wrist.

“Are you guys okay in there?” Sam’s worried voice came from the other side of the door.

“The door’s stuck!” Dean shouted back.

He heard Sam jiggle the handle on his end. “I’ll go get my tools! Will you guys be okay in there until I get back?”

“We’ll manage,” Cas called, his warm breath ghosting across Dean’s ear.

Dean groaned, resting his head on Cas’ shoulder. “I hate this.”

 .

Sam chuckled, leaning on the table in the storeroom.

“That’s not fair. You gave them a hint when you talked about my pranks earlier,” Gabriel said, appearing next to Sam. "If they figure it out before I win, it's your fault."

“Not so loud, Gabe. They’ll hear you.”

Sam could still hear Dean occasionally kicking the door, accompanied by a steady stream of muffled curses.

“No, they won’t. Besides, they’re about to be a little too enraptured by each other to be listening to us.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, right. All you're doing is subjecting your brother to a very cornered, very pissed off Dean. How long are you going to keep them in there?”

“Not sure. I’ll play it by ear, I think. Back to the issue of your cheating.”

“We never specified any rules,” Sam shrugged. “I was perfectly content to sit back and watch things unfold, but after the pranks you've been hitting me with I can't wait to watch you lose. And if I have to push a little to make it happen, I will.  _No more pranks!”_ Sam beamed, throwing his arms in the air.

“Ugh,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. “Cruel. Don’t you want their sexual tension to be resolved once and for all? Think about your poor, lovesick brother!”

“If he's lovesick it's his own fault. Anyone with eyes can see the way Cas looks at him. Besides, they can figure it out in their own time,” Sam said. “But a life without being pranked by _you?_ That’s priceless.”

“We will see, Sammy,” Gabriel said, tapping his fingers together in a steeple in front of his face, “We will see.”

Sam didn’t like the archangel's expression. “So what are they doing in there?”

 .

“ _Dean,”_ Cas hissed. “ _Stop moving._ That’s the third time you’ve stepped on my foot.”

“Well you wouldn’t stop moving either if _you_ were slowly losing all blood flow to your hand,” Dean grumbled. “Can’t you get us out of here? Or at least get me my arm back so we have space to breathe?”

“No,” Cas scowled, “Whatever this is, it’s blocking my power.

Dean growled, trying to wriggle to the side so he could see his wrist. "It can do that?" There was something pushing at his back now, pressing him up against Cas' chest. 

" _Dean,"_ Cas hissed urgently, "You need to stop that."

"What? Why? I didn't step on your foot that time!"

"I know, but we're rather close and your movements are causing...friction."

"Oh," Dean's mouth snapped shut and he immediately stopped moving. Dean was suddenly thankful that at least the closet didn't have any light- Cas couldn't see his blush. "Um. Sorry."

"It's okay," Cas sighed, sounding exhausted. "I'm not sure what we can do, besides wait for Sam to come back or..."

"Or?" Dean asked, looking up at Cas. His nose brushed against Castiel's jaw with the movement.

"Perhaps we could...um. Dean?”

“What? If you have an idea, man, I'm all ears.”

"I assure you, you're not going to like what I'm about to suggest."

"Can it really get worse at this point?" Dean sighed.

“This… _thing…_ it seems to want you and me to get together romantically, does it not?”

“Far as I can tell, yeah. It’s just like, romance novel clichés and shit that it keeps getting us tangled up in.”

“What do you think would happen if we were to…” Cas hesitated and looked away from Dean, licking his lips nervously. “…give it what it wants?”

“Uh…what?” Dean blinked, because there's  _no way_ Cas just said what Dean thinks he said.

Cas huffed. “I mean, if we appease it, maybe it will stop doing this. If it’s finding some sort of amusement in making us uncomfortable, then perhaps we should stop reacting the way it wants us to.”

“Huh,” Dean blinked at Cas a minute, then suddenly let out a loud laugh.

Cas jumped a little at the sound, scowling at the human. "I don't see what's humorous here, Dean."

"We could appease it...Like with bullies?" Dean asked, eyes wrinkling at the edges.

Cas squinted at Dean. "I don't understand."

"With bullies," Dean licked his lips, "You're, uh, not supposed to let them get to you. Or something. That's what everyone says. I don't know, I was never really bullied."

Even in the darkness, Dean was able to make out Cas' exasperated eye roll. "Congratulations, Dean."

"Shut up," Dean laughed nervously. He shifted against Cas again, this time intentionally slotting them closer together. Cas looked down at him, even more terrified than the time Dean had tried to get him laid by that chick Chastity. "Um, okay. We can try this, but if it doesn’t work, I'm blaming you...okay. Uh, how do we start?”

“I thought we could start with this,” Cas said, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. Dean's eyes fluttered shut, and he let himself lean into the kiss with a soft hum.

Sparks flew.

No, literally.  _Sparks flew._ They temporarily lit up the supply closet, and startled Dean into pulling away.

"My hand is still stuck," Dean observed, choosing not to comment on the  _literal fireworks_ that went off when he and Cas kissed for the first time.

“It is,” Cas agreed. He stared at Dean, and Dean stared back. It was just like they’d done so many times before, yet everything had changed with that one kiss.

“Maybe we need to try harder,” Dean breathed, the only warning he gave Cas before eagerly surging up to reconnect with the angel’s lips.

Cas made a surprised ‘ _hmph’_ noise at the contact, but was quickly kissing Dean back with equal enthusiasm. Castiel's lips were soft; much softer than they looked.

The angel ran one hand up and down the lines of Dean’s back, using the other to grip the human’s waist and pull him closer. Dean planted his free hand at the back of Cas' neck, holding him there. He felt one of Castiel's hands slip underneath his shirt, the angel's nails digging into the small of his back.

" _Cas,_ ” Dean moaned, arching into Cas at the touch. He pulled away slightly to start pressing kisses along Cas’ stubbled jaw. Cas' breath hitched and he angled his head back, giving Dean better access to his neck. The nails dug deeper into his skin, almost to the point of being painful.

Dean kissed lower, eventually pausing to suck at a spot just beneath Castiel’s ear. It drew a rough moan from the angel, a sound that had excitement pooling at the base of Dean's gut and something else stirring just a little bit lower. “ _God_ , you’re so hot.”

Cas' hand dropped lower to cup Dean’s ass, making the hunter gasp and throw his head back. Cas immediately attacked Dean’s exposed neck, nipping and kissing as Dean had done to him. In response, Dean reached up to run both hands through Castiel’s messy hair.

Wait a second.

“Cas,” Dean began, half-heartedly pushing the angel away. “My wrist is free.”

“So?” Cas growled into Dean’s neck, voice lower than the human had ever heard it. Dean shuddered. “The door’s still stuck.”

Cas pushed Dean, slamming him against said door. Dean wasn't without the angel's heat long, as Cas eagerly followed Dean forward and trapped the hunter between the door and his body. He was surprisingly strong; Dean didn't think he could break out of Cas' arms even if he'd wanted to...which he  _definitely_ didn't.

Dean moaned, using his grip in the angel’s hair to pull Cas’ lips up to his. Castiel licked into Dean’s mouth, humming happily as he did so.

Cas slotted a thigh between Dean’s legs and ground down, making Dean gasp and slam his head back into the door.

“You are _so_ beautiful, Dean,” the angel praised, leaning just far enough back to take in the sight of Dean, falling apart beneath his hands and lips.

Dean hummed, grabbing the angel by the tie and pulling them back together. He rolled his hips forward against Cas', loving the strangled growl it brought from his angel.

"Cas, we need to-" he panted between kisses, "Sammy's gonna come back any minute- he can't-  _oh, fuck,"_ he gasped when Cas growled against his lips. "We shouldn't be-"

Suddenly the door, which supporting them both, flew open.

.

“Hey, Sammy?” Gabe asked innocently.

“Yeah, Gabe?”

Gabriel beamed up at Sam. “I win,” he said, snapping his fingers.

The archangel vanished into thin air just as the closet door flew open, Dean and Castiel toppling out. The two men crashed to the ground, Cas landing directly on top of Dean. Sam’s eyebrows shot up, seeing Castiel's tie wrapped around Dean's hand and Dean's hair twisted between Castiel's fingers.

They both froze, looking over at Sam with wide eyes.

“Well, look who made it out of the closet,” Sam smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who follow me on tumblr, you know I said there was going to be three chapters. Buuuttt....I lied. There's going to be four. :)
> 
> And just to get you excited, next chapter Gabriel brings in the BIG GUNS: the notecards from Love Actually, the "last minute sprint," dramatic love montages, kissing in the rain...it's gonna be a big finale!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot more Sabriel in this chapter than I'd originally intended... 
> 
> Also, this chapter is almost entirely based off a scene from Love Actually (if you haven't seen it, go watch it. It is too precious)

“ _I thought you were getting tools!_ ” Dean sputtered angrily, shoving Castiel off him and jumping to his feet. He stormed over to where Sam stood frozen, looking around like a startled rabbit. “You were gonna _help us get out of there?_ Remember?!” The older Winchester shouted.

“I, uh…I couldn’t leave?”

Dean made a face. “What?”

“Whatever trapped you in there,” Sam began, making it up as he went along, “must’ve been keeping me from trying to help you guys get out.”

“So you finally believe something’s after us?”

“Well, I think the facts speak for themselves,” Sam said, more to appease Dean than anything else. “We should, uh, probably figure out what it is.”

“Damn right, we should,” Dean growled, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

“Dean—“ Cas started, taking a step forward to put a hand on the hunter’s shoulder.

Dean jumped away from his reach. “Don’t.” He passed a hand over his face, sighing. “Just…don’t, Cas. I’m going to take a shower.”

Dean stormed out of the room, feeling Sam and Cas’ confused (and probably hurt) stares on his back.

.

Now, Dean has always thought Cas was hot. Since day one. And it’s not like he’s never been with a guy before. And that kiss was probably one of the hottest moments of Dean’s life.

It’s not like he isn’t into Cas. Physical attraction-wise, at least. That isn’t the problem. There are much bigger things at stake here.

Usually, Dean Winchester lives by a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ maxim. He is always one for rushing into things, guns blazing. But he can’t do that this time. Not with Cas.

Say he hooks up with Cas. _What then?_ Despite what Sam and everyone else seems to think, he’s not completely oblivious—he knows that whatever Cas feels for him (completely disregarding the fact that Cas shouldn’t be feeling _anything_ for him- God knows he doesn’t deserve the love of an angel, after everything he's done), it runs way deeper than just the physical.

Dean can’t let himself—No. He’s just _not_  “in love _”_ with Cas. It’s not him. He doesn't _do_ love. Er, romantic love, at least. 

And he can’t hook up with Cas if he’s not in love with him because (goddammit, more clichés) he can’t risk messing up their friendship. If he hooks up with Cas and it doesn’t work out, what then? Dean’s tried to keep in touches with exes before (not that he’s ever really dated long enough to _have_ serious exes) and it _does not_ work.

And Cas _lives_ with them. They do  _everything_ together.

Better to not.

 _That_ should be Dean’s new motto.

And then, of course, Dean  _hated_ being forced into things. And cliches. And feeling threatened by something in his own home. So naturally, everything about this situation put him on edge. Of course he was going to fuck everything up.

And of course he already regretted it.

.

.

“Gabriel!” Sam shouted, knowing the archangel would come at his call.

Sure enough, the smug son of a bitch popped up behind him, smirk wider than usual. “What’s the matter, Sammy? Mad because I won?”

“You need to fix this. Now.”

Gabriel’s smile fell. “Fix what?”

Sam groaned in exasperation. “I _told you_ not to mess with them! Have you _seen_ either of them since your little stunt? Because let me tell you, they may have kissed or whatever and you may have won, but overall? _Disaster."_

"How do you mean?" Gabriel asked, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Dean’s out in the garage, blasting rock music, angrily working on the Impala and not talking to anyone, and Cas? Well, Cas is watching Love Actually in the living room. For the _third time_  today. And he’s gone through _four tubs of ice cream. Four._ I didn’t even know he _liked_ ice cream.”

“Oh.”

“ _Oh?”_ Sam repeated, donning a bitch face. “That’s all you have to say? ‘ _Oh’?!”_  

“I can fix this,” Gabriel said. “No problem.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “You’d better.”

Gabriel’s face lit up, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “What do I get if I do?”

“Are you seriously going to do this to me? I’ve already agreed that you won the first bet, isn’t that enough?”

“Let me think,” Gabriel began, tapping his finger against his chin. “No. I have one more request. Just a little thing, I swear. And then I promise I won’t rest until Dean and Castiel are content in their undying love for each other.”

“What do you want?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“A date.”

Sam blinked at him. “Uh…okay. With who?”

“With you, silly!” the archangel beamed.

“ _What?_ ” Sam laughed, “You’re not serious.”

“Just one date, Samsquatch. Surely it’s a price worth paying for your dear, emotionally constipated brother.”

Sam looked Gabriel up and down, weighing his options. “You’re really serious?”

“I’m serious! Just one date, and I swear I’ll be a perfect gentleman. If you don’t want more by the end of the evening, I’ll drop it.”

Sam scrunched up his nose at the word ‘more.’ “Gross. Fine. But just so you don’t get your hopes up, I’m _not_ going to want, uh… _more.”_

“You also said I’d lose the first bet,” Gabriel winked, disappearing with a snap of his fingers.

“Asshole,” Sam mumbled under his breath.

.

.

Dean almost didn’t hear it over the music blaring through his ipod, but the sound was quite insistent: a stubborn knocking on his bedroom door. He groaned, hauling himself out of bed. It was either Sam, who would want to talk about feelings, or Cas, who would want to talk about feelings.

Neither option was particularly appealing.

He opened the door with an annoyed “ _What?”_ and there stood Sam, frowning down at Dean.

“Can we talk?”

“ _No,”_ Dean growled, moving to slam the door in his oversized brother’s face. Sam caught it before he could, slipping past his irritated brother into the room.

“Believe it or not, _jerk,_ this isn’t about whatever the hell _you're_  dealing with for once. I have problems of my own, and I really need to talk to my big brother, okay? I promise I won't even bring up...uh, you and Cas.”

Dean frowned, instantly feeling guilty. “Okay,” he agreed cautiously.

Sam flopped down on Dean’s bed without invitation, his feet hanging off the edge. “So I—“ he froze, sitting up, “Wait, you angel-proofed your room, right?”

“Uh, yeah?" Dean said. "Why? What’s so bad that you don’t want Cas to hear?”

“Well it’s not Cas, I just…Nevermind.” Sam laid back down. “So I might have a date. I guess? With someone I don’t like. At least, I don’t _think_ I like him. Or I don’t want to. But I might.”

Dean  _wanted_ to ask who the hell Sam was going on a date with. It's not like they associated with a lot of people on a regular basis. But something Sam said caught his attention.

“Him?” Dean asked, raising an eye brow.

“That’s another part of the problem,” Sam sighed. “I mean, I’ve never—and I know you have, but I—“

“Sammy. Deep breaths. So wait, is the issue that it’s a ‘him’ or is the issue that you just don’t want to like him? Because either way, believe me when I say I’ve been there.” (And/or might currently be there).

“Um...the latter, I guess? He's...he's a dick, but he's a  _well-meaning_ dick? I guess?"

"Do you know what I say?" Dean asked, flopping on the bed beside his brother. 

"What do you say, Dean?"

"Well first I gotta ask. Are you thinking long-term here? And if so, is this person a hunter? Or does he know about what we do, at least?"

"He's not technically a hunter, but he's definitely able to handle our lifestyle."

"Then quit worrying about it and go for it," Dean hit his brother on the arm. "You've been through so much shit, Sammy, you deserve to be happy for once."

"Dean," Sam began sadly, "Maybe you should listen to your own advice."

Another knock came. Dean rolled his eyes. “I wonder who that could be. Just gimme a second, Sam.”

Dean opened the door and sure enough stood Cas in the hall giving Dean his biggest, saddest, most pathetic-looking pout. Dean opened his mouth to send Cas away, but the angel put a finger to his lips.

It was then that Dean noticed Cas was holding a stack of small white posters at his side. Cas noticed Dean staring at them curiously and held the first one up.

             _Say it’s carol singers_

Dean frowned at the card in confusion. “Why the hell would I say that?” he asked out loud. Castiel scowled at him, dropping the first card.

_Play along, Dean_

"Uh, sorry?"

_I don’t know where these cards came from_

Cas flipped to the next card.

_Or why the hell I’m writing any of this_

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the confused look on Castiel’s face.

_I was just watching a movie when the cards appeared in my hands_

He flipped it again.

_But I would like to say,_

 

_Without hope or agenda,_

 

_But because you need to hear it,_

Cas met Dean’s eyes, giving him a serious look before flipping to the next card.

             _To me, you are perfect._

They made eye contact again, and Cas offered Dean a small, encouraging smile. Dean opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it when he realized he had no clue what to say. Cas flipped to the next card.

             _And my wasted heart will love you_

 

_Until you look like this_

The last card had a picture of a mummy on it, and the unexpectedness of it made Dean laugh out loud. Cas gathered up the cards, giving Dean a thumbs up and a tight smile, and walked away.

 

Dean didn’t go after him.

Their life wasn’t a romance, it was a tragedy. Tragedies don’t have happy endings. They can’t.

Dean shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, thank you to everyone who has commented so far! This fic has already received a lot of positive attention and I love it!


	5. Chapter 5

“Sam, can we go on a hunt?”

Sam looked up at the angel, confused. “Uh. Of course, Cas. If you found a case we can all—”

"Not Dean.” Castiel stood in the doorway, shuffling uncomfortably. “I need some space,” he said with his usual seriousness, looking up at Sam with pleading eyes.

Sam’s expression softened. “From Dean?”

Cas took a deep breath, nodding.

“Look, do you mind my asking…what happened?”

Cas shrugged. “We kissed. I told him how I felt. He didn’t feel the same. It’s…to be expected. Really. I knew he wouldn’t return my affections, even from the beginning. But it still came as a blow, and I just feel I need a few days without him.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you, Sam. I found a case in Tennessee. The signs point to demons—“

“Okay, you can fill me in on the way there. I’ll talk to Dean and explain, no worries.”

Cas looked relieved. “Thank you, again.”

“No worries. I get that Dean can be…well, let's just say there have been times where I’ve needed space too.”

.

.

Dean was utterly, completely miserable. He’d made a huge mistake, and he knew it.

Maybe he should have at least explained? Before he fucked everything up by not going after Castiel after the angel practically poured his heart out to Dean. Because as much as he wanted to fix things now, he couldn’t. Cas couldn’t stand being in the same _room_ as Dean, let alone listen to Dean make more tired excuses.

Bored, Dean pulled out his phone and idly toyed around with it, taking a sip of his beer. He accidentally opened the camera (which he rarely, if ever, used) and—hang on. What where those? He didn’t remember taking those pictures…although at this point, nothing surprised him anymore. And making him mope over happy pictures of Cas definitely fit this thing’s M.O.

No, wait. He _did_ remember these. They were taken on Sam’s birthday last month—it was after an easy hunt. They’d all gone out to a bar afterward, and at some point in the night drunk Sam had gotten a hold of Dean’s phone and started taking pictures of _everything_ (which was hilarious to the younger Winchester at the time).

There was an extreme closeup of Sammy’s nose (Dean snorted. The dork must not have realized he had the front-facing camera on), one of Dean looking mildly irritated and trying to grab his phone back, a couple of their food, one of Cas thoroughly enjoying his cheeseburger (which Dean lingered over much longer than he should have), a picture of Sam and the blonde he was flirting with all night, and finally, a succession of pictures of Dean and Cas.

These last few photos were what finally got to Dean. Clearly, neither he nor Cas knew Sam was taking them. They were sitting next to each other at a dimly lit table, close enough that their legs were touching (you couldn’t see that in the picture, it was just something Dean remembered). In the picture they were obviously engrossed with each other, deep in conversation.

There was one picture in particular Dean hovered over: Cas was smiling at him like Dean was his whole goddamn world, but that wasn’t what got Dean. That smile—Dean’s favorite toothy, eye-wrinkling smile—was nothing new in and of itself. He’d seen it many times before, _in person._ It wasn’t quite the same in a picture.

But God, Dean loved that smile. He felt like the luckiest, most undeserving bastard in the whole world whenever he looked over and saw a smile like _that_ directed at _him._ He sighed, resting his chin on his hand.

But with this picture, it wasn’t even  _Cas_ Dean was looking at.

If he didn’t know any better, he never would have recognized himself.If he didn’t vividly remember that night, he would have argued that the Dean in the picture was a demon or skinwalker or something standing in his place. Because the real Dean just didn’t smile like that.  The Dean Winchester he knew, the man he saw frowning back at him in the mirror every day, never looked that happy.  _Never._

But he found he liked it.

“Oh my God,” he mumbled, “I’m in love with Cas.”

“What was that?” Sam asked from the doorway.

Dean swore, almost dropping his phone. He fumbled with it a moment, then glared up at Sam. “Don’t do that!”

“You know, for a hunter you’re pretty easy to sneak up on,” Sam laughed softly. “I was just letting you know that Cas and I are leaving.”

Dean fell back into the couch cushion. That’s right. Cas was so disgusted with Dean he felt like he had to flee the bunker to get away. “Have fun,” he grumbled.

Sam smiled sympathetically. “We’ll be back in a few days, a week at most. I think some space might be good for you, Dean. You can…think about things. I’ll see you later.”

With a last smile, Sam left Dean alone. Dean stared at the ground for a while, thinking. He would talk to Cas when he and Sam got back, tell the angel how he feels…

How he's completely and madly in love with the gorgeous, dorky little feathered weirdo.

Dean groaned, covering his face with his hand. “This sucks.” He got up, planning on getting a beer.

The hallways seemed too empty. Dean wandered through them slowly, tracing his fingers along the wall. He couldn’t stop thinking about Cas.

(If Dean hated clichés before, there were no words to describe this intense loathing of them now).

He froze mid-step, realizing music was playing throughout the halls. It was a sad, slow song- a classic. One Dean recognized almost instantly.

“ _WIND BENEATH MY WINGS?!”_ he shouted at the empty air, “ _REALLY?!_ Whoever you are, you have a sick sense of humor and  _terrible_  taste in music!”

“Well screw you too, Dean-o.”

Dean shut his eyes, grimacing. He recognized that voice. Of course he did. Several of the things that had been bugging him the past few weeks finally made much more sense.

“ _You,_ ” he accused, turning to face the archangel. He took several  angry steps closer, getting up in the archangel’s face. “You son of a bitch. _You’re_ the one that’s been fucking with me and Cas the past two weeks! I swear to God, Gabriel, I’m going to—“

“Oh, shut up,” Gabriel said, snapping his fingers. Dean opened his mouth to yell at Gabriel more, but no sound came out. His eyes widened and his hand flew up to his throat. “I wasn’t _messing_ with you, moron. I was trying to teach you a lesson. As usual. And _as usual,_ you’re too thick-headed to get the point, so I guess I have to explain. _Again,_ ” Gabriel rolled his eyes.

Dean scowled down at the archangel. “Oh, and the message is what? That I’m in love with Cas?” he asked, finding himself able to talk again.

Gabriel put his hands up in defense. “You said it, not me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well okay, I get the message. I'm in love with Cas. Congrats, you're right. Will you leave us the fuck alone now?”

“I promise to leave you alone,” Gabriel said. At Dean’s relieved expression, he held up a finger. “If you go talk to my little brother about it.”

Dean hesitated. “Right now?"

"Why? Are you too scared?"

"I'm not _scared,"_ Dean argued. "But he’s probably gone by now, right? I’ll just talk to him when he gets back.”

Gabriel put a hand on Dean’s arm gently, looking up at the hunter with pitying eyes. Which was Dean’s clue something was up. "Dean..." he began gently.

“What?” he asked cautiously, “What’s wrong?”

Gabriel pursed his lips, trying to think of how best to phrase it, “Castiel isn’t planning on coming back.”

“ _What?!”_ Dean shouted, eyes growing wide. “What do you mean he’s _not coming back?”_

"You really hurt him, kiddo. He told Sam he needed time, but that means something different for angels than it does for humans. There  _is_ no hunt in Tennessee, you sorry son of a bitch, there never was. Cas was planning on saying goodbye to Sam then skipping out."

“You’re lying. Cas would never do that,” Dean said, shaking his head.

"Why would I make that up? I _just_ talked to Castiel about it. He said that if he tried to say goodbye to you, he wouldn't be able to go. But he's got it into his head that you're going to be happier without him hanging around. There is, however, a bright side here.”

Dean gave him a look. “How the _hell_ is there a bright side?”

“You _know_ how Cassie feels about you. He's going because he thinks you don't feel the same way- he'd be _overjoyed_  to learn that's not true,” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. “And here's the _really_  good part: they haven’t left yet.”

“They haven’t?”

“Nope! They're in the garage right now. If you run, you can still catch them. And for the record—“

Dean didn’t hear the rest. He was already sprinting off down the hallway in the direction of the garage.

He sprinted down the hallway, and through the living room- stepping on the couch to jump over it rather than taking the time to run around it. He took the next corner too quickly and ended up skidding into the wall.

When he finally reached the door to the garage he almost tripped over the stupid welcome mat Sam bought and then slammed straight into the door (which he expected to be open).

He finally threw the door open and saw them at the other end of the bunker's massive garage, Sam climbing into the driver’s seat of the Impala and Cas saying something to him.

He paused a second to watch Cas- taking in everything, the stupid trench coat, the stupid messy hair, the stupid half-smile (which was only there because Cas hadn't seen Dean yet).

“CAS!” he shouted, sprinting the rest of the way toward them.

Castiel turned toward Dean’s voice, tilting his head in confusion. “Dean?” He closed the passenger’s side door, giving Dean his full attention. “What are you doing?”

Dean didn’t slow down, even when he reached Cas. He slammed full force into the angel— who didn’t budge when Dean ran into him except to take a small step back— and threw his arms around Cas. Not waiting to see the angel’s reaction, Dean tangled his hands up in Castiel’s hair and kissed him as if his life depended on it.

Cas gasped. Just as he began to reciprocate Dean pulled away, cradling the angel’s face in his hands. “Don’t go,” he breathed.

“Dean?” Cas asked, confused.

“Cas, I am so, _so_ sorry,” he breathed, looking into Cas’ blue eyes. “I was a stupid, unthinking idiot and I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I was scared. I didn't want to be in love, I didn't think I was that guy, but now I get it. You were right here in front of me this entire time, and I didn't even realize how much I love you until this whole stupid romance situation thing."

"You love me?" Cas asked, grin spreading across his face.

"Yeah, 'course I do. So you can’t go, not again. I need you, Cas, and I can't live without you, so please, _please_ don’t go.”

“It’s just a hunt—“

“Gabriel told me, Cas.”

“ _Gabriel?”_ Cas’ eyes widened. “Gabriel's alive? You talked to him? Is he _here?_ ”

"Uh, yeah? He said he talked to you! He said you weren't going to-" Castiel's face registered nothing but confusion. Sudden realization hit Dean. “Son of a bitch. You were planning on coming back after the hunt?”

Castiel’s eyebrows drew together. “Of course.”

“That dick just said you weren't cuz he wanted to see me run.”

Castiel frowned, putting a hand under Dean’s chin and making the human look at him. “I don’t follow.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “You know what? I don't even care at this point. Cas," he took a deep breath, eyes darting quickly to Sam, who was watching them both with an amused yet confused smile, "I love you, Cas. _So_ much. I'm sorry I'm a idiot and it took me so long to figure it out.”

Castiel’s face lit up. “I love you too, Dean. And I forgive you.”

When their lips connected, the sprinklers in the ceiling sputtered to life, bringing torrents of water down on everyone’s heads. Dean and Cas didn’t flinch at the sudden rain, kissing still even as their clothes soaked through and their hair clung to their foreheads and the water dripped into their eyes.

Castiel hummed contentedly, clutching at Dean's wet t-shirt and pulling him in closer. "You're not going to yell at me this time, are you?" he asked between kisses.

"Nuh-uh," he said against Cas' lips. "Promise. There _is_ somethin' else I'd like to do with you after this, though. If you catch my drift."

“Oh, for the love of God. _Gabriel,_ ” Sam groaned, less oblivious to the freezing cold water than Dean and Cas. “Did you have to include me in this?” He blinked rapidly, pushing his wet hair back off his forehead.

The archangel appeared next to him, completely dry. “Yep. Sopping wet looks good on you, moose.” He turned toward Dean and Cas. “Get a room, you two! You’re making me sick!”

The sound of Gabriel’s voice was enough to get Castiel’s attention. He looked at his older brother, more confused than ever. “Gabriel?”

"Heya, Cassie! Long time no see!" Gabriel beamed. He turned back to Sam. "I told you I could do it! You know the films, Sammy, they never get together until right at the very end."

Dean and Cas glared at Gabriel. "You're the worst," Dean growled. "Come on, Cas." He kissed Cas on the forehead and grabbed his hand, leading him back into the bunker. 

"Well, there you have it! That was oodles of fun." Gabriel grinned, turning to Sam. "I think I managed to use every romcom cliche in the book against those two saps. Now I believe you owe me a date." 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there, everyone! Remember how I said the last chapter was the last chapter? And how I also said the chapter before THAT was the last chapter? I lied. (Sorry) I HAD kind of planned on ending it with the fifth chapter, but I got a tumblr request to add a last chapter tying up the Sam and Gabriel date, soooo...here it is! I give you my SOLEMN WORD that this is actually the last chapter. Pinky promise.

“So, um, what about that case?” Sam asked, following Dean and Cas back into the bunker.

“You can handle it yourself, can’t you Sammy?” Dean asked, “Plus, that'll give me and Cas some time to ourselves,” Dean grinned, hooking his thumbs around the angel’s belt loops and playfully tugging him closer.

“Don’t forget about me!” Gabriel chirped, walking in behind Sam.

“I still don’t even understand how you’re alive,” Cas frowned.

“What, you’re the only one dad can bring back?”

“Well, that’s just great. And Gabriel- thanks for, you know, risking your hide for us against Lucifer in the first place. Now mind leaving us the hell alone?” Dean asked.

“Sammy promised I could stay here with you guys,” Gabriel beamed.

Dean made a face, looking between Sam and Gabriel. “You’re not going to correct him?” he finally asked Sam.

Sam sighed. “I _did_ say he could—“

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Sam, but we’ll get to that in a second,” Dean said, holding up a finger. “He called you Sammy." Dean pointed to himself. " _I’m_ the only one who calls you Sammy.”

“Oh,” Sam blinked, “Uh, right. It’s Sam, Gabriel.”’

“My sincerest apologies, _Sam,”_ Gabriel said with a sarcastic bow.

“ _Oh_ ,” Dean gasped, looking between Sam and Gabe again, this time with a wicked smile.” _I get it_. So Sam said you could stay, huh?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest. He smiled at Sam, rising his eyebrows. Sam knew that smile well enough to know something bad was coming.  “That’s awfully… _generous_ of him.”

Sam scowled at Dean, shaking his head slightly. His expression cleared the second Gabriel glanced at him and he shrugged. “He died because of us and he has nowhere else to go. I figured it’s the least we could do.”

“Well if Sammy wants you to stay, then welcome to the club.”

“Really?” Cas said, lips quirking up into a small smile as he looked at Dean, “You’re okay with it? Even after everything he’s done to us these past few weeks?”

“Hey! Are you really complaining, little bro? When you’ve got Dean Winchester tucked under your arm because of me?”

Dean frowned. “Don’t objectify me.”

Cas smiled, pulling Dean closer to his side. “You misunderstand me, Gabriel. I’d be more than happy to have you here, even though you tend to cause just as much trouble as you help.”

“Maybe,” Gabriel shrugged, “But hey, at least I got you your happy ending.”

“You must be so proud of yourself. _Anyways,”_ Dean said, clapping Gabriel on the shoulder, “have fun in Tennessee, guys. You give that monster an ass-beating for me.”

“ _Guys? Plural_?” Sam asked, the panic evident in his voice.

Gabriel grinned mischievously up at Sam.

“Well, I figured Gabe could go with you on the hunt,” Dean smiled innocently, “I mean, you were so eager to let him live here with us, clearly you don’t mind his company.”

“But—“

“I’m hurt, Sam,” Gabriel said, putting a hand over his chest. “You don’t want to hunt with me?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just—“

“Sam,” Dean said seriously. “Quit worrying about it- remember what I told you the other day. Go, and have fun.”

Sam took a deep breath, frowning at his brother. “I’m going to solve a murder. With a trickster-slash-archangel. Who is no doubt going to prank me _at least_ once on the trip. Our lives are seriously messed up if that’s a situation that's supposed to be fun.”

“No pranks. Promise. Now can I go?” Gabriel asked.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, shaking his head and smiling, “What the hell.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I don’t want it to seem like I’m kicking either of you out, but I’ve been waiting to have sex with Dean for five years…”

Dean’s jaw dropped and he turned, wide-eyed, to look at Cas. “Uh…”

“Well on _that note,”_ Gabriel clapped his hands together. “Let’s go, Sammy. I’ll drive.” He reached up to touch two fingers to Sam’s forehead, and they both disappeared.

“T _hat’s_ going to take some getting used to.”

“Ah,” Cas nodded, “I understand now. So Sam and Gabriel are—“

“Guess so.”

“Hmmm,” Cas said, turning to face Dean. He leaned forward, tilting his head to cover Dean’s face with dozens of light kisses.

“What are you doing?” Dean laughed breathily, slipping his hands underneath Castiel’s trench coat. He rested them on the angel’s hips, his thumbs massaging gentle circles into Cas' sides.

“Kissing every one of your freckles,” Cas said against the skin of Dean’s cheek. “It's something I've always wanted to do.”

“Have you _seen_ how many freckles I have? That’s going to take forever, dork.”

“We have forever, Dean.”

Dean kissed Cas lightly, feeling the angel’s smile against his lips. “Yeah, but…you said something about sex?”

Cas abruptly pulled away, his eyes serious. “Your freckles can wait,” he said, grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him to his room.

 .

“Uh, Gabriel?” Sam asked, eyes wide. He was rubbing his arms—it was cold and night all of a sudden (it was late afternoon just a few seconds ago, he swore), and he was wearing just a light plaid shirt and had no idea where they were. He turned and suddenly realized the cause behind the sudden time change. He craned his neck to look up at the thing in front of him, jaw slightly ajar. “I don’t think this is Tennessee.”

“What gave it away, Samsquatch? The guy with the beret and baguette that just walked by, or the thousand foot tall tower in front of you?”

Sam turned to look at Gabriel. “We’re in Paris.”

“You know why I like you so much, Sam?” Gabriel smirked, “You’re so smart.”

Sam huffed, looking back up at the Eiffel tower. “I mean, _why_ are we in Paris?”

"Isn’t it obvious? I only have one date to wow your pants off—you can take that literally or figuratively—so I’m going all out! We’re having dinner at the Eiffel tower, then we have a quick stop in Venice, and then I know of this great ice cream place in Bristol, then after that maybe Rome—or, if you’re up for it, the library of congress, ‘cos I know you’ve never been and that’s just a shame, considering how much of a geek you are. And as an archangel I can get us a, um, _private tour—“_

"You need to have a reservation _months_ in advance to eat here, Gabe,” Sam said quietly, still looking up at the Eiffel tower.

“Well, considering I _helped build it_ , I think I get a free pass,” Gabriel winked up at the taller Winchester.

“You did?” Sam asked, eyes wide. “I didn’t know that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Gabe snorted.

“And there’s a lot _you_ don’t know about _me_ ,” Sam retaliated. “Because otherwise you’d know that I don’t need all of _this,_ ” he said gently, waving his arm toward the Eiffel tower, “to have a nice date. I don’t need some big, grand romantic gesture—I was looking forward to just talking over a simple dinner.”

“Talking?” Gabriel repeated, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Yeah,” Sam laughed. “Talking. Just getting to know each other better. Just...drop the cocky act for one night. You can tell me about building the Eiffel Tower and I can tell you about how much I love running in the morning, you know? That kind of thing.”

“Okay…” Gabriel nodded slowly, “I can do that. Where do _you_ want to go for our date, then?”

Sam grinned at Gabriel. “Like, out of anywhere in the world?”

“Sam, I was ready to take you to the _Eiffel tower._ Yes, _anywhere._ ”

“Okay, okay, let me think," Sam said, pursing his lips. His face suddenly lit up. "Got it! So there’s this restaurant in Colridge, Wisconsin—it’s this mom and pop-type place, I think it’s called White Fox Den or something. Something to do with an animal, I don't know. Dean and I went through there a few years back and it was seriously one of the greatest restaurants I’ve ever been to and it's adorable and just the perfect place to sit and talk to someone,” Sam gushed.

“Say no more, Sammy,” Gabriel smiled, reaching up to touch Sam on the forehead again.

Gabriel found the restaurant easily, and they had dinner. And they talked.

And they talked and they talked and they talked, about everything under the sun. They were completely different, they realized, but that just gave them more to talk about. They sat together until the restaurant closed.

“We really _do_ need to go to Tennessee, though,” Sam said as they walked out. “Something’s killing people down there, and we can’t just ignore that.”

"Right,” Gabriel nodded absently.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I just…” Gabriel hesitated, his usual cockiness nowhere to be seen, “So what do you think? I promised I’d leave you alone if you asked, so say the word and—“

Sam put a hand under the archangel’s chin, tilting his face upward, and bent down to plant a chaste kiss on Gabriel’s lips.

With a smirk, he kept walking, leaving Gabriel to gape at his back. “Wait up!” the angel called, jogging after the hunter. “So that’s a yes to more?”

Sam sighed, smiling, “Once again, Gabriel, you were right. I wouldn’t be completely opposed to ‘more.’”

“ _Really_?” Gabriel asked. “I mean, of course you wouldn’t. This is _me_ you’re dealing with.” He winked.

Sam laughed. “Right. So, uh, Tennessee? We could…um…get a motel room for the night? Then get started on the case tomorrow?”

Gabriel grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Well I hope you all liked the ending! Thank you so much for reading! (and for putting up with my indecision regarding the ending)
> 
> This was initially a prompt fic...If you guys have a prompt you wanna give me, shoot me a message on tumblr! (My url is: fantasy-novelist) Or follow me. That's always good.


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